


Running in Sand

by laurenthian



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Found Family, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Past Sexual Assault, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Women Being Awesome, trans Clint, transvengers assemble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurenthian/pseuds/laurenthian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Babysitting the daughter of secret agents?  Easy.  Dealing with said agents' emotional constipation? Less so.</p><p>The events of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/119859">Soul Meets Body</a> from Kate's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [with our hands cupped like shovels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400647) by [shadowen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/pseuds/shadowen). 



> This is a companion piece to shadowen's series, [Soul Meets Body](http://archiveofourown.org/series/119859). Title is taken from a misheard lyric from "The Storm" by Airborne Toxic Event; chapter titles are taken from ATE's discography.
> 
> All praise to [ shadowen ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/pseuds/shadowen), for creating the SMB universe, founding the [Transvengers Initiative](http://transvengersassemble.tumblr.com/post/107647181679/welcome-to-the-transvengers-initiative-for>Transvengers%20Initiative</a>,%20and%20beta'ing%20this%20for%20me.%20%0A%0A%20The%20title%20is%20based%20on%20a%20misheard%20lyric%20from%20), and beta'ing this fic!

JOB POSTING:  
JOB TITLE:  
S.H.I.E.L.D. OFFICE:  
JOB LOCATION:  
JOB CATEGORY:  
STATUS:  
EXPERIENCE:  
COMPENSATION:  
RATE:  
|  #85008  
Babysitter  
Manhattan, NYC  
off-campus, private residence  
Childcare  
Full Time  
3+ years (part-time experience acceptable)  
Hourly; travel stipend and overtime pay possible  
TBD (based on experience)  
  
---|---  
  
Please send your completed application to jobs.internal@shield.int. Include the posting number in the subject line. No .pdf attachments please.  


* * *

  
FROM: R. Patel, Internal Jobs Board Administrator (patel.rc@shield.int)  
TO: coulson.pj@shield.int  
SUBJECT: FWD: Job Posting #85008

Agent Coulson,

We received only a few applications for your job posting. After eliminating those applicants who did not fit minimum qualifications, I was left with one candidate. I am forwarding you her application. Her cover letter: 

> FROM: bishop.ke@shield.int  
>  TO: Internal Jobs Board (jobs.internal@shield.int)  
>  SUBJECT: Job Posting #85008
> 
> To whom it may concern,
> 
> Hello, I would like to apply for the babysitting job. I have years of experience caring for children, from infants to preteens. I graduated from St. Ursula’s Academy in May with a 3.75 GPA. My mother, Eleanor Hart Bishop, was a SHIELD operative, and consequently I am very familiar with confidentiality concerns and protocols. I am 17 years old and have my own transportation. 
> 
> In addition to completing the basic application, I took the liberty of attaching my resume to this email. 
> 
> Thank you,  
>  Katherine “Kate” Bishop

Ms. Bishop included letters of recommendation from three S.H.I.E.L.D. employees; additionally, Director Pierce’s daughter has flagged this applicant as “Highly Valuable.” I am attaching those letters of recommendation and Ms. Pierce’s letter along with Ms. Bishop’s resume.

I will also send you the list of rejected applicants for your review.

Regards,  
Raymond Patel  
Internal Jobs Board Administrator  
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division

* * *

  
FROM: coulson.pj@shield.int  
TO: R. Patel, Internal Jobs Board Administrator (patel.rc@shield.int)  
SUBJECT: RE: Job Posting #85008

Agent Patel:

Thank you for your assistance on this matter. I agree that Bishop is the strongest candidate. Please schedule her for an interview any time after 2 p.m. Tuesday or Thursday of next week.

Best,  
Phil Coulson  
Director of Recruitment  
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division

* * *

  
FROM: R. Patel, Internal Jobs Board Administrator (patel.rc@shield.int)  
TO: bishop.ke@shield.int  
SUBJECT: Job Posting #85008

Dear Miss Bishop,

Thank you for your interest in this employment opportunity. You have been selected for an interview with the posting agent. Please report to Suite 1105 on Tuesday, July 10, at 4:30 p.m. Business casual.

Regards,  
Raymond Patel  
Internal Jobs Board Administrator  
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division

* * *

  
FROM: kebishop@gmail.com  
TO: susanbishop@bishoppublishing.com  
SUBJECT: interview outfit

Hey Susie,

I landed an interview for the SHIELD nanny job! Do you have time to go shopping with me? I have to have something business casual by Thursday morning at the latest.

Thanks! Love you!  
Kate  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though Phil referred to himself as a Senior Agent in "roads left in both of our shoes," I felt that he would have been given a new position due to his new focus on Clint. He's no longer an active field agent, but he _is_ the head of recruitment for S.H.I.E.L.D.
> 
> Like most authors, my continued survival depends on constructive criticism. _Mmmmm, feedback. Om-nom-nom_


	2. What's in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate's interview
> 
> All praise to shadowen, my brilliant beta!

_And I only just learned how to stand like a man_  
_I've got 25 years of running instead_  
_How could I see the ground at my feet_  
_The truth is to me that I was caught in the storm_  
_That I wasn't alone_  
\- “The Storm,” Airborne Toxic Event

Agent Coulson was a legend. Agents talked about him in hushed tones, telling stories with equal parts reverence and fear. He was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s very own Sasquatch. Everyone had heard of him, but no one Kate knew had ever worked with him directly. Kate’s mom had sworn that she and Susan had met him a few times, but her mom had also told her that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny were real. All of her babysitting clients talked about the guy like he was a bureaucratic bogeyman, a story concocted by the higher-ups to scare the baby agents.

Only now Kate was sitting in the guy’s office. Applying for a babysitting gig.

For a legend, he wasn’t very intimidating. She would be tempted to describe him as unimpressive, but a lifetime of associating with S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives had taught her to appreciate subtlety. She didn’t know why he was interviewing her—his office was devoid of the typical parent swag, and nothing on his desk or walls indicated that he had a son or daughter, or niece or nephew, or a life outside of S.H.I.E.L.D., really. The only personal touch was a vintage Captain America recruitment poster. Even his pens were uniformly non-descript.

“You would be taking care of a 7-month old girl: Marian.”

“What’s her middle name?” Kate interrupted. At Coulson’s frown, she added, “I’m kind of a name nerd. Katherine Elizabeth, by the way.”

“Ah. Marian Jean.”

“Pretty.”

Coulson made a hum of approval. “Her father is a trainee agent. You’ll be caring for Marian while he attends classes at the academy.”

"What about her mom?"

"There is no 'mom,' only Marian's father and his roommate,” Coulson coughed. “His platonic roommate."

"Okay, but what happened to the mom?"

Coulson, narrowed his eyes. "I just told you--"

"Yeah, I got it. Hooray for single dadhood and all that, but I still need to know. Are they divorced? Is she dead? Would anyone else pop up with a custody claim? I should be aware of any issues or complications."

Coulson raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Kate shifted in her seat, (she will never let Susan help her pick out an interview dress again—Susan’s idea of professional was cutting off circulation), “Well, when I babysat Agent Williams’ twins, their dad showed up and claimed that it was supposed to be his week. Except I knew that Agent Williams has sole custody and that she had once taken out a PFA on the guy, so I was able to hit the panic button on my keychain and stall him until Williams and a team of ninjas showed up.”

“Ninjas?”

“Agent Williams was attending a martial arts workshop at the time.”

“Right, Debbie did mention that in her recommendation letter,” Phil nodded. “She said you ‘performed admirably under pressure, showing a level of maturity and resourcefulness rare for a sixteen year old’.”

Hardly. She’d pressed a button then spent twenty minutes making small talk and searching for the (hidden) diaper bag. “And that’s why I need that information. Sir.”

Coulson drummed his fingers on the desk. “Point taken. There are no such issues and none will arise. Marian’s father has sole custody and there are no other relatives.”

“Okay, then.”

“I see you’ve worked with high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. officers.”

“Um, I guess Director Pierce’s grandkids would be the highest-profile job?”

“Yes,” Coulson set her resume aside, shuffled through some papers on his desk. “His daughter also gave you a glowing recommendation. Ah, here it is.”

Kate frowned. “I don’t have her listed as a reference. I mean, not that I have a reason not to, I just—”

“Ms. Pierce flagged your name—whenever you apply to a childcare posting on our internal jobs board, she sends an automated endorsement. It’s a form letter, but Ms. Pierce is quite busy.”

“Sweet. I had no idea.”

“Well, you do now. Anyhow, you’ve worked for the director’s daughter, so you’re familiar with our confidentiality practices—”

Kate barely concealed her smirk. “I grew up in S.H.I.E.L.D., sir. All of my clients are sensitive and classified. I’m used to it.”

“Right. Agent Bishop’s daughter,” he paused, looked at her with something too close to sympathy. “The last time we met was at Eleanor’s wake. How are your father and sister?”

Kate shrugged. “Fine.”

Coulson huffed what might have been a laugh, “It’s easy to forget that you’re still technically a teenager, Ms. Bishop, but I’ll accept that answer. I see you were a member of your school’s archery team?”

“The Captain and MVP.”

“Marian’s father shares your affinity for archery.”

“Really? Cool! It’s been forever since I met another… I mean, I won’t, like, bug him or anything, but still—Cool!”

Coulson actually smiled. “He’ll appreciate your enthusiasm. What about school?”

“I’m taking a year off so that I can consider my options. College or S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Both excellent choices,” he smiled again. “So, base pay is $20.00 per hour, with a monthly travel stipend of $150 for errands, emergencies, and the like. You will be on duty from as early as 6:30 a.m. to as late as 10 p.m., depending on the training schedule, although he’s usually home by 6 p.m. You’ll also have to prepare food for yourself and Marian, perhaps occasionally staying later to help her father with dinner, again depending on the training schedule.”

“Because Dad might be dead on his feet, gotcha.”

“As are most trainees and new parents. I will expect you to contact me with daily updates and concerns. I’ll give you my cell number, although as I’ll be out of town next week, email would be more expedient. Do you have any questions?”

“I’m hired?”

“You start Monday.”

“Sweet!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quick headcanon regarding the SMB universe:
> 
>   * Kate's mother was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. 
>   * Kate's date of birth is August 12, 1989. 
>   * Kate's interest in archery comes from Eleanor, who was a competitive amateur archer. 
>   * Eleanor's maiden name was Hart. 
> 

> 
> I took most of Kate's background from canon, including her family's first names (Derek, Eleanor, and Susan), her mother's death from cancer, and Kate's full name. 
> 
> Like most authors, my continued survival depends on constructive criticism. _Mmmmm, feedback. Om-nom-nom_  
>  Follow me on [tumblr](http://dinosaur-princess.tumblr.com).


	3. Those Tender Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate's first day with Mia

_We were only seventeen_  
 _We were holding in our screams_  
 _Like we'd torn it from the pages_  
 _Of some lipstick magazine_  
\--“Gasoline” Airborne Toxic Event

Marian was a dream. Super smart, freakin’ adorable, and totally chill. They played for most of the day, breaking to watch _Sesame Street_ (Marian growled whenever Elmo appeared—Kate was in _love_ with this baby) and an old episode of _Mr. Rogers_. She never got fussy once, submitted to diaper changes and nap-time like a _boss_ , and was just the best baby ever. Marian was the kind of baby that made people who hated babies want a baby: the anti-childfree poster child. Marian even tried to share her applesauce with Kate. Best. Baby. Ever.

And so _not_ a Marian. Marian made Kate think of “Maid Marian,” some stuffy noblewoman who languishes in a tower hoping that a knight errant would save her. No way would this little dynamo ever wait around for rescue. The kid was a Mia to her core.

Dad seemed cool, if a little awkward. Goofy, shy, but also sweet and obviously over the moon for his daughter.

Of course, Kate spent most of the first day snooping. She was mostly just looking for a name (“Mr. Marian’s Dad” was a bit too formal and she didn't want to risk him not introducing himself—again, dude was awkward), but hoping to find something about archery too. She had no one to geek out with since her mom died.

The apartment was an upscale two bedrooms/two bath—tasteful but bland, more like a model apartment than an actual residence. Both bedrooms were furnished, but only the master bed had been slept in recently. The spare bathroom was fully stocked—shampoo, body wash, toothbrush, et al. Kate was surprised to discover Midol in the master bath, ditto the maxi pads under the sink. So Mom (or Mom Substitute) was in the picture and omniscient Agent Coulson just had his facts wrong? Or perhaps the platonic roommate was not so platonic after all.

That afternoon, she thought to check the recycling bin for mail. Any official correspondence would go directly to S.H.I.E.L.D., of course, but junk mail and sales fliers and mundane stuff might still come to an agent’s home address. Mia happily sat in her baby swing clutching Piggy as her intrepid sitter sorted through discarded paper.

“All righty, Princess,” Kate said to Mia, who was burbling happily in her swing, “Let’s see if I’m as good as I am nosey. Oh ho, did you know that Mr. Clinton Barton might qualify for an auto loan with as low as 1.29% APR? Or that he needs to renew his subscription to _Bow International_? So do I, come to think of it. Thank you for reminding me, Daddy Clint!”

Mia giggled. Kate tickled her socked feet. “Is that right? Is Clint daddy? I guess so. Now, who is supposedly living in the other bedroom? Huh, Miss Mia? Let’s find out about Mystery Mom.”

Kate poked her nose. “Of course, you’d still be perfectly fine without any mom-type ladies. My mommy isn’t around, either.”

Mia scrunched her face, signaling an imminent diaper change. “C’mon, Princess.,” Kate cooed as she lifted the now-pungent baby out of the swing. “Let’s get you changed.”

* * *

“My mommy had cancer,” Kate said, undoing the buttons on Mia’s onesie. “She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent like your daddy, but don’t worry, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't why she isn't here anymore. No it isn't, no ma’am.”

Mia kicked happily.

“Less squirmy please. Thank you, Princess. My mom did office stuff after my big sister and I were born, but she knew how to do all sorts of things! Just like your daddy’s learning now! Yes, she knew lots and lots and lots.”

Gurgle.

“But then the doctors found out that she had cancer—which is this really awful, yucky disease—even yuckier than this!” Kate held up Mia’s putrid diaper and made a funny face. Mia rewarded her with giggles and happy baby squirming. Kate tossed the old diaper and grabbed some powder along with a fresh diaper. “My mommy—her name was Eleanor—she was very sick for a year, then she died. Now it’s just me and my dad and Susan, she’s my icky big sister. You don’t have one of those.”

Kate finished the diaper change with a zerbert to Mia’s tummy.

“Now let’s go find out who else lives here!”

* * *

Mia was down for her afternoon nap by the time Kate discovered that a Mr. Philip J. Coulson was overdue for his six-month dental cleaning.

“Huh,” she said softly, processing this information. She walked back to the master bedroom where Mia dozed peacefully in her crib.

_Coulson hadn’t said that the mother was dead or that she had lost custody._

Right before Thanksgiving, Kate had overheard Agents Kim and Hand discussing a pregnant man who was training at the Academy. Agent Kim had innocently suggested throwing him a baby shower and Hand told her that “Phil would lose his shit” if anyone caused the trainee any embarrassment. Then they noticed that Kate was still waiting for Agent Kim to pay her (Lucia was always a doll, but Kate’s not pro bono) and they aborted the subject. Kate knew that the story was probably legit (this was Victoria freaking Hand, after all), but she’d just filed it under “Weirdness at S.H.I.E.L.D.” and forgotten about it until today.

So Daddy was gestational daddy? The time frame fit, Agent Coulson—Phil—was obviously close to the situation, and it explained the Midol and maxi pads in the master bedroom. It also might explain why Agent Barton was so nervous in front of her—he was probably used to expecting to worst from people. One mystery solved.

And that made bio-daddy . . . Phil? Kate pushed back a lock of dark red hair from Mia’s forehead. The baby snuffled in her sleep. No way was Mia Phil’s daughter. This kid looked nothing like him. The coloring, for one—Phil was pale, light brown hair and light gray eyes; nothing like Mia’s dark hair, dark eyes. Mia resembled Clint, at least in bone structure. It was probably more accurate to say that Mia looked like what Clint used to look like before nose fractures and years of what Kate guessed could be charitably called “hard living” took its toll on his features. Marian Jean was what her father must have looked like from when he was a kid.

Kate considered Mia’s future: Clint’s face, but feminine and unscathed, with dark auburn hair. She smiled because this kid would be a knockout as an adult.

She decided to ignore the Mystery of the Sperm Donor for the time being

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All praise to shadowen, my brilliant beta!
> 
> Like most authors, my continued survival depends on constructive criticism.


	4. Water Rising Around Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emails between Kate and Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All praise to shadowen, my gracious and brilliant beta!

_And I feel the water rising around us_  
_Maybe that's okay_  
_Yeah I feel the world changing, all at once_  
_I guess it will be okay_  
\--"All at Once," Airborne Toxic Event

* * *

FROM: bishop.ke@shield.int  
TO: coulson.pj@shield.int  
DATE: July 20, 2007  
SUBJECT: Day 3

Hi Agent Coulson,

I hope the mission is going well. Your roommate’s daughter is a babysitter’s dream. Your roommate himself is a nice guy, but he’s running himself ragged. Example: I tried to stay last night and cook for them, but he snapped at me, then apologized, then still refused any help.

Should I just ignore him next time, and cook anyway? Would that be a boundary issue? Please advise.  
Kate

* * *

TO: bishop.ke@shield.int  
FROM: coulson.pj@shield.int  
DATE: July 21, 2007  
SUBJECT: RE: Day 3

Ms. Bishop,

Why would you presume that Agent Barton is my roommate?

Best,  
Phil Coulson  
Director of Recruitment  
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division

* * *

FROM: bishop.ke@shield.int  
TO: coulson.pj@shield.int  
DATE: July 21, 2007  
SUBJECT: RE: RE: Day 3

Agent Coulson,

Your dentist tracked you down. You should probably start shredding your junk mail.

I don’t care and I won’t tell anyone in case it violates some regulation. The baby is wonderful, but like I said your roommate seems like he could use some help. So next time do I push or just do what he says?

Kate

* * *

TO: bishop.ke@shield.int  
FROM: coulson.pj@shield.int  
DATE: December 19, 2007  
SUBJECT: Baking

Hi Kate,

Do you have any dietary restrictions or allergies? I’m baking Mia’s cake.

Best,  
Phil Coulson  
Director of Recruitment  
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division

* * *

FROM: bishop.ke@shield.int  
TO: coulson.pj@shield.int  
DATE: December 19, 2007  
SUBJECT: RE: Baking

Please don’t. Anyway you should focus on enjoying her party. How about I bring cookies instead?

* * *

TO: bishop.ke@shield.int  
FROM: coulson.pj@shield.int  
DATE: December 19, 2007  
SUBJECT: RE: Baking

I want to do something special for Mia. I’ve found a really great recipe that omits sugar and overly processed ingredients. Much better for the baby.

* * *

TO: coulson.pj@shield.int  
FROM: bishop.ke@shield.int  
DATE: December 19, 2007  
SUBJECT: RE: Baking

Babies have no taste buds, but Clint and I do. I’ll spring for two dozen cookies. She’ll love them, I promise.

* * *

TO: bishop.ke@shield.int  
FROM: coulson.pj@shield.int  
DATE: February 7, 2008  
SUBJECT: Daycare

Hi Kate,

Mia is not adjusting well to daycare. If at all possible, could you spend a few hours there with her? Maybe for a few weeks? We’ll pay the regular rate.

Any advice would also be greatly appreciated. Thanks,

Best,  
Phil Coulson  
Director of Recruitment  
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division

* * *

TO: bishop.ke@shield.int  
FROM: coulson.pj@shield.int  
DATE: May 8, 2008  
SUBJECT: Emergency

Has Clint contacted you in the last week?

Best,  
Phil Coulson  
Director of Recruitment  
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division

* * *

TO: coulson.pj@shield.int  
FROM: bishop.ke@shield.int  
DATE: May 8, 2008  
SUBJECT: RE: Emergency

I haven’t seen him since last weekend. What’s going on? Is everything okay with you guys? Call me. I’ll be calling you if I don’t hear from you in like 10min, but CALL ME.

Kate

* * *

TO: bishop.ke@shield.int  
FROM: coulson.pj@shield.int  
DATE: June 1, 2008  
SUBJECT: Arrival

Kate,

Mia and I have arrived safely at the new house. I hope your trip is going better than mine went. Mia, like most infants, hates flying.

Have you heard from Clint?

Be safe,  
Best,  
Phil Coulson  
Director of Recruitment  
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division

* * *

TO: coulson.pj@shield.int  
FROM: bishop.ke@shield.int  
DATE: June 2, 2008  
SUBJECT: RE: Arrival

Hi Phil!

Everything is going great on my end! I’ve had such a blast! I’m eating awesome greasy diner road food and drinking my weight Red Bull! I keep stopping to take pictures for you and Mia (and He Who Shall Not Be Named Until He Gets His Shit Together), which is slowing me down a tiny bit but oh my god you are going to love them!

I haven’t heard from him either,  
Kate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phil's email signature does not attach itself to responses or forwards. And he's been too busy to change his title (or I forgot to ask shadowen for clarification on his new title; pick one.)
> 
> The actual plot of this story will begin in the next chapter.
> 
> Wanna follow me on [tumblr](http://dinosaur-princess.tumblr.com)?


	5. Papillon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate devotes herself to helping Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, all praise to [ shadowen ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/pseuds/shadowen) for creating the SMB universe, founding the [Transvengers Initiative](http://transvengersassemble.tumblr.com/post/107647181679/welcome-to-the-transvengers-initiative-for>Transvengers%20Initiative</a>,%20and%20beta'ing%20this%20for%20me.%20%0A%0A%20The%20title%20is%20based%20on%20a%20misheard%20lyric%20from%20), and beta'ing this fic!

_And I hear the desperation of those lines_  
 _Wasted hours, all this wasted time_  
 _Oh yeah, I been just fine!_  
\--“Papillon,” Airborne Toxic Event

Kate was enjoying life with her Mia and the Pseudads in LA.

Babysitting Mia continued to be a dream job. Phil had enrolled the toddler in a half-day of pre-pre-kindergarten at a swanky Waldorf preschool so Kate was only watching Princess Mia in the afternoons. Like a true father figure, however, Phil had then started to leave brochures for local community colleges. He eventually came out and told Kate that she should consider taking a few undergraduate courses while Mia was at daycare.

A few weeks had passed since Clint’s return and he was still sort of a wreck. During Clint’s sabbatical, Kate had hoped that he was working through whatever emotional baggage had been screwing up his relationship with Phil. No such luck. Kate reasoned that the emotional constipation clearly afflicting both men meant that she would need to become more proactive. They were officially an unofficial family after all, and she’d be damned if she was going to let her Pseudads endure another year of anxiety and hesitation (Phil) or self-loathing and depression (Clint). The Clint situation was becoming untenable.

Clint was working so hard to appear normal that sometimes he'd almost vibrate with tension. He'd done it right before his sabbatical too, but now he was perfecting the shtick. Luckily for him, Kate had been raised by an upper-class WASP family and was intimately familiar with people who kept up appearances while they disintegrated inside.

While Mia napped one afternoon, Kate gathered her thoughts and observations on paper.

_WTF is Wrong w/ Clint?!_  
 _A. Red Flags_  
 _1.  Phil offering to sleep on the sofa the first night Clint was home._  
 _a.  Clint turned him down, BUT it was still weird that Phil offered_  
 _b.  Could it have been a “we’ll see if we can stand living together again before we try sleeping together again” thing?_  
 _2.  Lack of physical contact_  
 _a.  For a couple, Phil & Clint hardly touch. _  
 _i.  When they do have something resembling PDA, Phil telegraphs his movements, & Clint still flinches. _  
 _ii.  The guy whose biceps are thicker than my thigh flinches._  
 _b.  Super tactile people otherwise._  
 _i.  They’re still affectionate w/ Mia & to a lesser extent, w/ me _  
 _ii.  But so weirdly hesitant w/each other._  
 _iii.  I've seen Phil reach out as if to touch Clint’s back or shoulder, only to pull back his hand at the last second._  
 _3\. No sexy fun times._  
 _a.  I live in the room next to theirs in a house w/ paper thin walls._  
 _b.  If they are screwing, it’s not happening at home._  
 _4.  Clint’s nightmares._  
 _a.  Wake-up-screaming, fall-out-of-the-bed, cry-himself-back-to-sleep nightmares._  
 _b.  Every. Single. Night._  
 _B.  Clint’s Past_  
 _1.  Difficult childhood/life_  
 _a.  Transgender_  
 _b.  Orphan_  
 _i.  Siblings?_  
 _c.  Circus_  
 _2.  Work Pre-SHIELD_  
 _a.  Circus_  
 _b.  Mercenary_  
 _i.  Spent his adult life ricocheting from job to job_  
 _ii.  All involving highly dangerous situations/people/organizations._  
 _iii.  Never any guarantee of food or shelter._  
 _3.  SHIELD_  
 _a.  Recruited by Phil_  
 _b.  Joined SHIELD because he was pregnant w/ Mia._  
 _C. Clint himself_  
 _1.  Low self-esteem_  
 _2\.  Close to his family (Mia, Phil, me, Hill(?)); Intensely loyal_  
 _3.  No previous attachments/relationships (that he's mentioned)_  
 _4\.  Seems like he has PTSD_  
 _a.  From job?_

And suddenly Kate got it.   _  
_

 _Coulson was adamant that Clint was Mia's only parent.  Clint had previously worked as a mercenary or hired muscle for various scary people/organizations. He’d gotten pregnant while working with violent and dangerous people.  Not too far of a leap to presume that these were not safe/secure working environments._ _Has PTSD, afraid of touching his boyfriend, no sex with boyfriend. . . ._

The most probable answer was the worst possible answer and Kate had to stand up and walk away from her notebook. She made it to Mia’s crib, and had to lean against it to keep from falling. She slid down to the floor anyway. Kate had been lucky a few years ago, she could say that now and mostly mean it. Her attacker hadn't done any permanent physical damage, hadn't killed her like he’d threatened. She’d been able to drag herself to a hospital, gotten the Plan B, and left before anyone could ask questions. The worst day of her fucking life and she didn't want to think about it and she hadn't had a flashback in years and she’d be damned if she was going to have a fucking panic attack while she was with Mia and risk scaring this poor kid, _and Jesus fuck, does the world ever get better or does it just suck for everyone?!_

It had been hell for her as a fourteen year old girl, and she’d had _help_. She’d had support from a sister who loved her and saw that something was wrong; from a therapist who was paid to care about her but seemed fond of her anyway. She could not comprehend what it had been like for Clint as a 20 year old _guy_.

She heard Mia stir, and stood back up.

“Shhhh, ‘s okay, Princess.” Kate soothed. She would _not_ cry right now. _Goddammit, Katherine Elizabeth, get a fucking grip. 100, 99, 98, 97, 96 . . . ._

Mia stood up in her crib. Gripping the bars for support, she looked up at Kate’s face and frowned. “Kate sick?”

“Nah, everything’s fine. I’m just freaking out a teensy bit. It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” Kate wiped her eyes. Stupid traitorous tear ducts.

Mia looked incredulous. She picked up her beloved Piggy, and handed it to Kate.

“Aw, thank you, Mia,” she said, clutching the plush toy to her chest. “Hey, It’s time for your afternoon snack, then how about some television? Daddy and Poppa’ll be home soon.”

Kate gave Piggy back to Mia and lifted the toddler out of the crib.  She would deal with the Clint thing after Mia's snack.

* * *

It was obvious to Kate that she might need back-up. After her attack, she’d had a therapist and occasionally saw a support group. She hadn't told anyone besides the nurse at the ER, didn't want an investigation because her life at the time was fucked up enough and she’d just wanted to move the fuck on and get the fuck over it. Unfortunately, as Kate had discovered, surviving rape wasn't a get-over, it was a deal-with. Kate hadn't had a flashback in years, but she still dealt with the rare panic attack. And, yeah, sometimes she had nightmares. She knew what Clint was going through.

So she looked for resources in the area. She did find several crisis centers and support groups, but nowhere with a program geared toward his situation. Even if there had been a transgender group, no way would Clint agree to go if she just sprung it on him. What would she say?

_“Hey Clint, I figured out that you were sexually assaulted resulting in the kid you pay me to babysit, and you don’t seem to be handling life all that well right now, here are some pamphlets.”_

Yeah, no.

But what if he knew about Kate? Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard for him, being the only trans person in the group, if he had a friend with him. Maybe if Kate told him her story, he’d agree go with her, for her sake if not his own.

She'd talk to him, but she'd need the perfect time and place. 

* * *

The next night, Kate waited until Phil was putting Mia to bed. Clint was sitting on the sofa, surrounded by after action reports and field manuals. She tossed the brochure onto his lap.

“What’s this?” He said, “Woodley Park Archery Range?”

“It’s nearby. Free and open to the public, although they don’t allow crossbows or broadheads.”

“What, they only use Nerf equipment?” Clint smirked as he read.

“Right?” Kate leaned over the back of the sofa, careful to not intrude on personal space. “I wanna go. When are you free tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“I haven’t practiced in months. I’d be dragging you there right now, but they closed at sundown.”

“And why do you need me with you at all?

“Well,” Kate shrugged, “I would like to compare notes. Plus I’m 90% sure that I’d own your ass in a competition.”

“I don’t do the formal stance bullshit.”

“Pfft, that’s for summer camp and the Olympics. I just wanna shoot.”

“Hmm,” he closed the brochure, started tapping it on his knee. “What about Mia?”

“Her preschool is open for daycare until seven at night, and Phil would pick her up way before then anyway. I’ll even pay the day care fee.”

Clint looked at Kate, raised an eyebrow. “You got your own equipment?”

“Um, _yeah_ ,” Kate said, rolling her eyes “Mine plus my mom’s old stuff. Why? You need a better bow?”

“My bow is awesome, young lady.”

“So prove it.”

Clint was quiet for a moment. Then he wiped his hand down his face. “I want to, but I don’t know if I’ll have the time. Phil’s got me designing this survivalist workshop for the baby agents—”

“Phil would prefer that you occasionally participate in activities and hobbies you actually enjoy,” Phil said as he emerged from the hallway. He held up Mia’s sippy cup. “She needed a refill.”

As he walked into the kitchen, Pseudad 2 called out, “Phil would also prefer for you to not use Phil as an excuse to avoid said activities!”

Clint looked at Kate, then turned toward the kitchen, shouting, “So I can take a half-day tomorrow?”

“Somehow S.H.I.E.L.D will survive," Phil responded.  As he walked back to Mia's room, he called out, “And Phil will pick up Mia tomorrow afternoon, Kate.”

“Phil rocks!” Kate shouted. Then she leaned farther over the couch. “Sooooo?”

“All right, Katie-Kate,” Clint said. “Be ready by noon.”

Kate smiled and bounced up. “Yes! You are the best!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me fits. Any constructive criticism regarding details, flow, etc, is enthusiastically appreciated.
> 
> The shooting range is a real place and open to the public: [Woodley Park Archers](http://woodleyparkarchers.org/).


	6. This Road Unwinds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate talks to Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All praise to [ shadowen ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/pseuds/shadowen), for creating the SMB universe, founding the [Transvengers Initiative](http://transvengersassemble.tumblr.com/post/107647181679/welcome-to-the-transvengers-initiative-for>Transvengers%20Initiative</a>,%20and%20beta'ing%20this%20for%20me.%20%0A%0A%20The%20title%20is%20based%20on%20a%20misheard%20lyric%20from%20), and beta'ing this fic!

_...and all of this time I've been alone_  
 _Then you walk right through the doorway_  
 _You tell me you're here to stay_  
 _The worst is gone and my God how long_  
 _Have you been here this way?_  
\--"The Storm," Airborne Toxic Event

            Kate had reserved the lanes farthest from the entrance.  (She _might_ have mentioned that her friend worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. to ensure that they had plenty of room to themselves.)  She watched as Clint set up his gear.

            “You gonna stare or you gonna shoot?  I mean, I completely understand if you want to bask in my superior archery skills—”

            “Pfft, no,” She said, playfully punching his shoulder.  She stepped back a bit, looking unsure. “I actually wanted, um, I needed to talk to you.  Well, no.  I needed to tell you about something?”

            Clint stopped immediately, and looked at her, worried.  “What’s going on? You okay?”

            "Yeah, I'm good now, mostly, But, um," Kate took a deep breath, and began, “So about five years ago, I was walking home from school, through this park . . . ”

* * *

            “It happened a long time ago, but it, y’know, it stays with you for life and—” She cut herself off when she glanced over at Clint.

            Clint was staring at her. “You said five years?”

            “Yeah.”

            “You were fourteen?”

            Kate swallowed, nodded.  “Yeah.”

            “You were fourteen.”  He ran his hand down his face.  “Jesus.”

            Okay, upsetting him was _not_ the goal of this discussion.  Kate sputtered, trying to get back to her point.  “Anyway, I know, kind of, what you’re going through.  And if you need to, I don’t know, talk to someone who isn't Phil, or if you have a panic attack or even a nightmare, I’m right next door, okay?”

            Clint’s squeezed his eyes shut.  He didn't say anything.

            “Clint?” Kate asked softly.  She touched his elbow.  “You okay?”

            “Just—just come here, please?” Clint gently grasped her forearm and tugged her closer.  He wrapped his arms around Kate, very tightly. “Tell me if this isn’t okay?”

            “It’s fine,” she said, muffled slightly by his shirt.  She loosely circled her arms around his waist. (He had been pretty touch-averse with Phil and hugging didn’t mean you necessarily wanted to _be_ hugged, did it?)  He tucked her head under his chin.  She let herself lean into him.  “Um, I’m s’posed to be comforting you right now.  Did I mess up?”

            “No, no,” He cleared his throat. She felt him shake his head, his chin rubbing over her hair. “You’re fine. You—I am so—You did not mess up.”        

            “So, um, I’m cool with hugging,” Kate said, still muffled, “but, this is getting a little painful.”

            “Gotcha, sorry,” he released her, but she held onto him.  He gingerly resumed the embrace.

            “Also, I looked for resources in the area—support groups or therapy,” she looked up at him, giving what she considered her most encouraging smile.

            Clint stiffened, but he also nodded.

            “And, um, if you wanted to come with me, when I find a group or a therapist, that’d make me really happy,” Kate ducked her face back down and said,  “I mean, I could go on my own, but the point of support groups is, y’know, _support_ , and I’d feel much, much better if you’re there with me.”

            “Okay.  What if they don’t want a—” Clint paused, then continued, “someone like me?”

            “Then I’ll cuss them all out and we can slash every tire in the parking lot.  Together.”

            Clint laughed—the last time she’d heard him laugh was in _April_.

            “Aw, you’d commit destruction of property for me?”

            “I’d commit it _with_ you,” she clarified.

            “Tell you what, girlie,” he said, squeezing her one more time.  “I’ll think about it.  Give me a while.  Maybe a month or so?”

            Kate squeezed him, tried to lift him off the ground.  Clint let out an affected “oof.”

* * *

            “So, who else knows?” Clint asked as they were driving home.  They’d spent most of their range time talking, but Clint had signed them up for two more sessions the next weekend.

            “Just you and my old therapist.”  Kate stretched out in the passenger seat of Phil’s sedan—her Bug was her baby, but _damn_ did she miss leg room.  “My sister knows that something happened--”

            Clint turned to look at her, raised an eyebrow. “You can say the word out loud, Kate.”

            Kate rolled her eyes.  “Susan knows that I was raped, but she just assumed that it had happened at a party.  I didn't feel like correcting her.”

            “How did she take it?”

            “She asked for the guy’s name and promised me that she wouldn't get in trouble for killing him.”

            Clint snorted.  “Really?  Isn't she, like, a debutante?”

            “Yep, or was, before she got married,” Kate smiled.  “This was in the middle of her wild phase—said if she got arrested then at least Dad would ‘stop bitching about that DUI.’”

            “Priorities,” Clint said smiling.  

            “Exactly,”  Kate shifted in her seat, pulling up her knees.  “She was actually pretty great about it—if you can be great about it.  Supportive.”

            “Can I ask, did anything happen to her?”

            “Not personally, but she knew other girls.  When Susan was in high school, her best friend was raped.  She noticed that I was acting like Beth had, I guess.  That’s also why Susan knew what to do with me. She didn't want me to end up like Beth.”

            “What happened to Beth?”

            “She has, like, substance abuse issues. Addiction is genetic, and it's not like she was the only kid we knew who'd raid her parents' medicine cabinet,” Kate squirmed in her seat, readjusting her legs into a more contorted position.  “But  everything just got so much worse after she was assaulted.  I remember Mom and Dad talking about it—they knew, everyone did. Beth told her parents, but they refused to let her go to the cops because it was her ex.  ‘To avoid a scandal’, which is such bullshit, I can’t even begin to tell you.  Plus, everyone at their school sided with the guy and totally abandoned her, except for Susan.  Because Susan is really loyal, like Hufflepuff-loyal. Anyway,  Susie didn’t want me to feel like I was alone.”            

            “Hm.”

            The car stopped at a red light.  Kate faced Clint and tapped his shoulder.  He turned toward her. “And I don’t want you to feel alone, either.”

            He smiled sadly, “I appreciate it, girlie, but if you make me cry and I crash Phil’s car—”

            They both dissolved into laughter.  “Okay, good, we’re on the same page,” he smirked, “I’m guessing Phil doesn’t know?”

            “You can tell him,” Kate looked out the window.  “It would be less awkward from you., Plus, you could segue into why you’re going to therapy and stuff.”

            “ _Thinking_ about going,” Clint corrected.  “All right,  If I have your permission, I will tell Phil. He wants me to have, y’know, support.  And he adores you anyway—okay, wow, I just thought of another reason I should be the one to tell him.  I might stand a better chance persuading him to _not_ firebomb Manhattan, just in case he could get the guy.”

            “Aw, he’d commit mass murder for me?” 

            “Kate, we both would.”

            Kate quickly leaned over and pressed her head on Clint's shoulder.  Best. Pseudads. Ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or someone you know needs help or support, contact [RAINN ](https://rainn.org/), an excellent organization dedicated to ending sexual assault and providing resources for survivors and their friends and families.


	7. Strange Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate drinks coffee while Phil makes French toast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All praise to [ shadowen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/pseuds/shadowen), for creating the SMB universe, founding the [Transvengers Initiative](http://transvengersassemble.tumblr.com/post/107647181679/welcome-to-the-transvengers-initiative-for>Transvengers%20Initiative</a>,%20and%20beta'ing%20this%20for%20me.%20%0A%0A%20The%20title%20is%20based%20on%20a%20misheard%20lyric%20from%20), and beta'ing this fic!

_It was a long night_  
_When I carried you and you carried me for a time._  
\--“Strange Girl,” Airborne Toxic Event

 

            Kate awoke to the smell of French toast and coffee. 

            “Morning,” Phil smiled as Kate walked into the kitchen.  He was wearing the “Licensed to Grill” apron that Kate and Mia had given him for Fathers’ Day.  On the kitchen table, a large bowl of fresh cut fruit salad stood in place of the boxes of cereal that served as the family’s usual breakfast fare.

            “Good morning,” she responded.  She walked over to the refrigerator.  “Where are Clint and Princess Mia?”

            “They went to get orange juice.”

            “But we have orange juice,” Kate said, lifting the bottle out of the fridge.  It was organic and local (of course), and three-quarters full.  

            ‘Ah, but we only have the pulpy orange juice,” Phil explained.  He flipped the slices of French toast in the sizzling pan.  “Which neither of them will drink.  They insisted on having the wrong kind.”

            Kate shook her head.  “Clint's teaching her bad habits, Phil.  Today it’s pulp-free orange juice; next thing you know, Mia’ll demand that the toilet paper roll hang underhanded and that forks should be prong-down in the dishwasher.”

            Phil turned to face her, perfectly serious.  “Kate, it’s too early in the morning to discuss doomsday scenarios.  We have monthly drills for a reason.”

            They both snorted.  Kate poured herself a cup of coffee—fair trade, locally roasted, and worth every penny, according to each adult in the household.  She decided to rip off the Band-Aid while Mia was out of the house.

            “So,” Kate said, setting down her mug then hopping up to sit on the counter.  “Did you and Clint talk yet?” 

            Phil stilled, then drummed his fingers on the countertop. 

            “I had my earbuds in last night,” she continued.  “Couldn't hear anything.  Just wanted to know if you guys talked.”

            “You shouldn't sleep like that,” Phil said softly, “it might damage your hearing.”

            Kate rolled her eyes.  “Duly noted.  Answer me.”

            “We discussed the possibility of Clint seeking therapy in the next year,” Phil said, ““I was happy—for all our sakes—that he’d decided to seek out treatment for his experience sooner, but I was also curious as to what had prompted him to move up his timetable.”

            “Timetable?”

            “Originally I had given him until Mia started kindergarten,” Phil shrugged.  He turned around, resumed poking at the French toast.  "Anyway, he told me about your conversation."

            “Ah,” Kate sighed.  She sipped her coffee.

            “Kate,” Phil said, breaking the somewhat-comfortable silence, “you know that if you ever needed anything from me, anything at all, you need only ask.”

            “Mm,” Kate nodded.  She sipped her very tasty, very interesting coffee.

            “An accomplice, an alibi, just let me know and I _will_ make it happen.”  Phil picked up the griddle and slid its contents onto a serving plate.  He reached into the spice cabinet, and pulled out cinnamon, cardamom, and confectioners’ sugar.  He shook each in turn over the French toast.  “I do mean _anything_ —for instance, a wood chipper.  I can requisition a wood chipper and have it delivered in less than an hour.”

            Kate snorted, “Phil, I get that you’re the uber-agent, but I’m pretty sure that someone would notice a stray wood chipper.”

            “Only if someone audits my requisitions,” he replied.  “And no one ever audits my requisitions.” 

            “Really?”

            Phil wiped his hands on his apron.  “I’d like to think that they’d know better by now.”

            Kate laughed.  “Probably.  They shouldn't be working at S.H.I.E.L.D. if they’re dumb enough to question the mighty Coulson.”

            “Damn right,” he nodded.  “Could you please help me set the table?”

            “Sure.” Kate said, hopping down from the counter.  “What’s the occasion, by the way?”

            Phil shrugged, “I thought it’d be nice.  I remembered you mentioning that Eleanor made French toast on the weekends.”

            “Ah,” she nodded.  She arranged the plates and forks as Phil grabbed the syrup (which was neither local nor organic because Mrs. Butterworth’s was apparently sacred to Clint).  “So is this my reward for surviving a random act of violence?”

            “No,” he said firmly, “If anything, this is your reward for helping a friend in pain.”

            Kate nodded, smiling.  “Cool.  I think I have one request.”

            “Name it.”

            “Can we maybe do this every weekend?”

            Phil practically beamed, “French toast specifically?  Because I also found a recipe for Nutella waffles.”

            “Just the big breakfast would be enough,” she smiled. "But I wouldn't turn down Nutella anything."

             Kate walked over to Pseudad 2, wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him tightly. 

            Best family _ever_. 

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or someone you know needs help or support, contact [RAINN ](https://rainn.org/), an excellent organization dedicated to ending sexual assault and providing resources for survivors and their friends and families.
> 
> Phil's [apron](http://alpersteindesigns.com.au/products/aprb-gri2)
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://dinosaur-princess.tumblr.com).


End file.
